The Teacher
by pippychick
Summary: A fanciful take on what Elrond's story might have been through the ages.
1. Prologue

**Rating:** M

 **Pairings:** Oropher/Elrond, Thranduil/Elrond, Legolas/Elrond, Elrond/Celebrían, Elrond/OFC, Thranduil/Legolas

 **Warnings:** Slash, het, graphic sex, bdsm, D/s, bondage, incest, canonical character death

 **Disclaimer:** This is a work of fanfiction. I do not own the elves within or middle earth. They belong to Tolkien, and I am just borrowing them for a short while. I make no money from this.

 **Summary:** A fanciful, smutty take on what Elrond's story might have been through the ages.

 **Author's Note:** Ok… this is the very beginning of a rather large undertaking written for Esteliel. She gave me a request for Christmas, and before I knew it, the idea had grown so big I realised it was going to take quite a few chapters to tell it all.

I hope anyone who reads will enjoy it.

This hasn't been beta read. Comments encouraged and appreciated.

Currently rewriting this to fall within the 'M' rating for this site. Let's see how that goes. That means formerly explicit writing in this story that relates to the warnings above will be reduced. You still should not read this story if you are underage due to mature themes.

 **The Teacher**

 **Prologue**

 **III 140**

"Prince Legolas Thranduilion, my Lord!" Elrond rose from his seat to greet the newcomer with a measured and sincere smile of welcome. The young elven Prince had been in Imladris for a full day already, and Elrond had deemed it appropriate to leave that small amount of time to allow the Prince to recover from his journey, and to find his bearings. It had also helped him, as he strove to come to terms with the memories the visit evoked.

He walked from behind his desk and swept his arm to indicate two comfortable chairs which had been set before the fire. According to his express wishes, his Chief Counsellor, Erestor, withdrew quietly, along with the Captain of Imladris' army, Glorfindel, and soon they were quite alone.

Elrond smiled a little. Legolas looked even more like Oropher than Thranduil did and it made his heart ache for a moment before he poured them both a glass of wine. "Forgive the lateness of the hour I choose for this meeting, your Highness," he said, looking up for a moment to catch the icy blue of Legolas' eyes upon him. "But as you can imagine, with Celebrían away in Lothlórien, the tasks she takes upon herself fall on me in her absence." His words were light, but in truth, Elrond always felt a little lost without her. The years of his life before Celebrían had been full… He stopped his thoughts before they could lead him back to that fateful day once more. But now, when she was away, he was alone.

"Of course, Lord Elrond," the Prince said with a smile of his own. "I have taken the opportunity of free time to rest and reflect. There is peace at the moment, but it is still such a long journey." He took the goblet Elrond offered him with a hand that did not shake, his calm blue gaze so disconcerting and forthright for a moment that he resembled his father, and Elrond shook his head slightly. Those same eyes laughed at him in silence as he sought to gather his suddenly scattered thoughts, as if they knew… but Legolas couldn't, could he?

"How is the King? I hope he and the Queen are quite well." It was a pleasantry, but he watched avidly for the answer as he relaxed back in his chair, taking a sip of the Miruvor to compensate for his nervousness at meeting the son of his former lover.

"Yes, thank you," Legolas nodded. "They are very well. My father wishes to extend an open invitation to you to visit at any time." Elrond nodded at the expected message. "He is a little disappointed that your visits are so infrequent of late. Indeed, I have not seen you in my home since I was small. But you have responsibilities here, I see."

How well he remembered that last visit. Legolas had indeed been small, and for a moment Elrond feared the truth of this meeting. The King could not really expect something of such frivolity from him, could he? Looking into Legolas' eyes there was no answer. Such an impenetrable gaze; all three of them had shared it, and he couldn't predict what the outcome would be, except that if Thranduil asked it of him… Elrond swallowed. If it was asked of him…

"But I trust that you have read his letter, have you not?" Legolas' words broke into his thoughts, and Elrond mentally came back to the present again. He had indeed read the letter, feverishly, wanting a word or two of something – not comfort or love, those he shared with his family now – but… something. Something of regret perhaps.

"Yes, I have." There had been nothing though besides pleasantries and empty turns of phrase, and Elrond had felt the parchment as ice in his hands, unaware of how much he had wanted some measure of feeling to be there until it was absent.

"He truly misses you," Legolas said softly, one eyebrow quirking up a little as if in mischief. "Whether he admits to it or not." So he wasn't completely unaware of the truth? Elrond silently thanked the Prince for those words with every fibre of his being, feeling a warmth in his heart that had nothing to do with the sip of wine he had consumed.

"Thank you," Elrond replied, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he fought the urge to smile in elation. He was not forgotten either, then. He opened them again when Legolas cleared his throat.

"There is another letter." He reached into the folds of his tunic and pulled out a small scroll tied with a thin green ribbon. "I was told to deliver this into your hand personally. Perhaps you will find some of what you seek within." Legolas shrugged nonchalantly. "Perhaps not. I didn't read it. I cannot say for certain what it contains."

Slowly, Elrond set his own goblet to rest on the table, beside the decanter, and turned to reach out for the missive Legolas offered to him. As he took it, the soft brush of Legolas' fingers against his own made him look into the Prince's eyes. He felt he was giving too much away. Didn't Legolas already seem to know what he hungered for? But then the parchment was in his hand and Elrond sat back, fingering it thoughtfully before untying the ribbon and beginning to read in silence.

He began slowly, taking in the informal address with a tender smile, but then his eyes greedily began to skim the contents, and before he could stop to think he had stood up abruptly in shock, his knees hitting the side of the small table, knocking the half-empty goblet of miruvor to the floor. It all seemed to happen so slowly, yet Legolas was there immediately, righting the goblet and then taking hold of his upper arms as if in alarm.

"Are you all right, Lord Elrond?" he asked mildly, his voice and the calm blue of his eyes a stark contrast to the drama of his actions. Still, Elrond couldn't see anything in his eyes save for impassivity. He refused to look down again at the parchment he still held tightly in his grip. Fingers curling, it almost crumpled in his hands as he swallowed.

They were the same height, and yet the Prince was so much younger than him. This couldn't be! But it could… because they had been so young too. Younger than him. "Do you know the purpose of your visit here?" Elrond demanded, a little emotion in his voice at last, as if he pleaded for an answering glimpse of warmth in Legolas. Those hands were still on his arms, as if unwilling to let him go, and despite wanting to step away, Elrond simply couldn't do it.

"I do," he replied quietly, for a moment his reflective gaze cracked to show a flicker of concern.

"And are you aware, then, some of what this…" Elrond swallowed, "…'letter' contains?" Legolas smiled hesitantly and nodded once.

"I am."

Elrond looked down then, away from those blue eyes that seemed to see into him so easily. But all there was to look at was the letter. Not only the words he longed to hear from a former lover and friend, but also a set of instructions from someone who had for a short while become something more than a lover or a friend, or even yet a teacher. Instructions. Elrond swallowed thickly, before shaking his head in denial.

"I cannot do this!" he accused the letter. "You cannot ask me to do this!" He looked at Legolas again, and saw something like sympathy in his eyes. "Please, I must be alone." The Prince nodded and let him go at last, for which Elrond was exceedingly grateful. The nearness of Legolas was beginning to affect him, and combined with the contents of Thranduil's letter to him, it made him feel weak and dizzy.

"Of course, Lord Elrond," he began, "there is a choice for you to make."

"There is?" he asked absently, walking to look out of the eastward-facing window with a slow smile of amusement, and also willing devotion.

"Of course there is a choice," the Prince stated in clipped tones, making Elrond shiver as he recalled a similar voice from so long ago. But then the voice became warmer, and he was pulled back to the present. "There may not be a choice in your hands, but I will give one to you regardless." Legolas shrugged. "I don't claim to understand this, but my father assures me it does not cause you distress. I can only trust him. But should you find yourself unwilling, I will not hold it against you."

With that said, Legolas left the room before he could reply, leaving Elrond alone. There was no choice, Elrond thought as he held the letter in his hands, looking out of the window accusingly, as if the King could see him. He smiled then, almost bitterly, feeling something inside him give in to the inevitable, and understanding that in spite of his shock, he wanted to do it. He wanted to please, and he wanted to be told what to do, just once more.

Elrond half-elven smiled secretly at that; every time was the last time.

Quickly, Elrond crossed the room and locked his door, then he calmly sat behind his desk to read through the letter more carefully.

That night, Elrond of Imladris dreamed of the past – when he had been someone else – when he had been Elrond of Lindon…

To be continued…

 **Author's Note:** Thank you for reading, I hope you are enjoying it. Please review and rate!


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

 **II 300**

"Half-elf!" Elrond froze and looked around for the owner of that voice, but before he could think of any suitable way to warn it off, he found himself pressed back into a suspiciously convenient alcove as Oropher accosted him.

"Stop!" he demanded, and that was as far as he got before soft lips were on his, a kind of desirous sigh coming from them that made Elrond moan helplessly. He was pressed to the wall, his wrists imprisoned against the hard stone, and he moaned. Elrond resisted the urge to do so again as the lips left his to trail down over his jaw and then his neck. He didn't open his eyes – if he did then he would be lost completely.

"Please, Oropher. Not here." He protested but he could feel the other elf pressing against him, rubbing so that his body responded against his will, and he tried to hold back the moan those gentle undulations coaxed from him, but he couldn't, and he registered the other's intimate laugh of triumph with a slight smile of his own.

At last he opened his eyes, having lost anyway, and as always he wanted to fall to his knees in worship. Oropher stared at him for a moment with victory in his blue eyes – so beautiful – and Elrond began to kiss him back. It didn't matter that Oropher didn't respond for the moment. Elrond leaned forward as far as the grip on his hands would allow and kissed Oropher wherever he could reach. His lips, his cheek – Elrond even darted out with his tongue to lick at his ear. His blond hair hung around him like silk, but the tresses around his face actually curled, and it drove Elrond almost mad with desire. His hands were let loose, but now instead of fighting he used them to try and pull Oropher closer to him, feeling as if he were under some kind of spell.

"What have you done to me?" he asked breathlessly, just the touch of Oropher's hands on his shoulders enough to make him tremble and electricity tingle in his fingers. His only answer was a kiss – a kiss that made him whimper and shake. Oropher's taste on his lips, that clever tongue licking at him, tickling at the roof of his mouth so that he made a high-pitched helpless sound of lust.

"I haven't done anything to you yet, half elf," Oropher said at last, when the invasive kiss was over. "Turn around." Elrond groaned and opened his eyes again – when had he closed them?

"You have bewitched me," he accused softly, but he turned to face the wall nevertheless. He was older than Oropher by at least two centuries, but somehow it counted for nothing. The younger elf seemed to know all of his hidden secrets, knew how to touch and to tease him until all he wanted was give in and allow Oropher to disgrace him. Until it didn't matter any more as long as he had release.

Oropher didn't respond to the inflammatory comment, but only reached around to caress him, and he almost cried out before he realised that they might be heard.

"How did you get to be so good at this?" he settled for asking, with a soft moan of aching surrender. Oropher laughed at him again, and Elrond thought he would die.

"I have had lots and lots of practice," he whispered, so wickedly that Elrond couldn't help imagining blond, beautiful Oropher with a room full of lovers. The image made him whimper. "Shall I practice on you?" he asked.

"No! You make me feel…" Again, Oropher laughed, and Elrond couldn't hate it, however much he wanted to.

"How do I make you feel?" he asked, sounding curious although he didn't let up with the caress of his hand or the suggestive movements of his lithe body.

"Mortal!" Elrond gasped as he gave in, ruining his clothes. There was a giggle behind him and Elrond groaned in dismay.

"You lose again, half-elf. And now you have to get changed." Oropher pressed against him a little more urgently, and Elrond whimpered when he realised the elf had not yet found release. "I will see you in your room," he predicted, with a quick but delicious kiss to the nape of Elrond's neck, "in five minutes. Follow me."

Five minutes. Elrond felt the heat from behind him move away and he grimaced. It had taken less than that for Oropher to undo him. Would the elf never get tired? Elrond, it seemed, had been his sole preoccupation for weeks now. Resistance was laughable.

Still shaking slightly, Elrond turned to face the corridor and drew his robes around him to hide his dampened leggings as he dawdled slowly back down the corridor to his room. He shook his head in bewilderment. It wasn't even lunchtime.

* * *

They lay in a tangled mess of warm limbs and exhaustion. Almost tired enough to seek reverie, Elrond toyed with a strand of Oropher's ash blond hair. The sun had made its way across the sky while they spent the day teasing and playing with each other. As the hours had passed it had moved from shining on their hair, to their bodies, until now the rosy tones of early sunset shone on their naked feet. It was warm, and wicked, and wrong to have done it, Elrond knew that.

How ashamed he had been when he had been forced to explain – _through the door_ – that he was feeling a little tired and that he wouldn't be attending Gil-Galad that day. Elrond had taken a position as a counsellor some time ago, and now it seemed his dalliance with Oropher made him unreliable. It was an inexcusable lie, but neither did he know how to banish Oropher from his room. The elf would simply refuse, and Elrond couldn't make him, because he didn't want to make Oropher leave.

Now, after a full day spent slaking his lust with the blond elf, Elrond ached. He felt he had done a day's labour, except that he was so languid and sated. He sighed happily in Oropher's arms and kissed his throat softly.

Beneath him Oropher moaned lazily. "Again, half-elf? No, you can't…" He flapped an imperious hand. "I am exhausted…" Elrond smirked, feeling a little evil, and although he truly had no intention of beginning anything else he rolled over to trap Oropher beneath him.

"But you don't have to do anything, _bainnon nín_. All you have to do is lie there and let me," he teased playfully. Oropher looked up at him, his blue eyes dark and intense but insrutable as he groaned – a sound that made Elrond want him just once more.

It was a tired kind of lust he felt, and he made love to Oropher slowly, drawing out the pleasure with his eyes closed, no longer wanting the frenzied, desperate passion they had used up earlier. This, right now, was everything he could ever need. "What are you?" he asked with a groan, the words slipping out before he could stop them. But he wanted to ask the question. Oropher was still mysterious to him, even now, and it excited his orderly mind.

"Mmm…" Oropher moaned, stretching a little as if to tease him, "yours… And you are mine…" Elrond opened his eyes then, and he had never felt like so much of a slave as he did at that moment, unable to stop it – any of it. "Half-elf," Oropher finished, and Elrond closed his eyes again at the possessive look his lover graced him with.

"Why do you insist on calling me that? I made the choice long before you were even born." Amazingly, it was true, even though most of the time Elrond felt considerably younger than his companion. It was something about Oropher's attitude, he decided.

"Because I can see that it gets to you." It was that perfect confidence combined with the charisma. So irresistible! Elrond moaned and rested his weight on Oropher who held him close, laughing quietly in victory.

* * *

 _Elrond awoke in the dark with a smile on his lips. Still half asleep, he stretched his body languidly in the bed he occupied, rubbing his cheek against the cushion that had slipped down to rest beside him._

" _Oropher," he murmured, his voice soft with sleep and dreams before coming fully to his senses. When he did the passage of unalterable time came back to him as well, and he sighed in grief at the weight of it, but was also grateful for the attendant peace and clarity. It had been many centuries since he was so befuddled by the nearness of another. Or was it? The events of the day came back to him then, and Elrond remembered his reaction to Legolas._

" _I cannot," he declared to no one in particular, actually going so far as to throw a hand over his forehead dramatically. In the dark of his room – alone – he felt suddenly achingly vulnerable. There was no one to guide him or to heal him. These were things he usually offered to others._

 _Sometimes, he could almost resent his life – but he chose not to. There was so much to be thankful for, so much beauty still left to enjoy that he couldn't turn away from it. None of his kind could, and for a moment Elrond wondered what it might have been like had he chosen differently. Had Elros ever entertained the dark thoughts that now hovered on the edge of his mind, unable to quite touch him. Had they plagued him, until at times he wanted to end it?_

 _Elrond relaxed, letting go of the weighty musings about his brother, lying back amongst the soft pillows in the warmth of his bed, watching the shadows play on the ceiling in the moonlight. His window was slightly ajar as always, and when he breathed in he could smell the night jasmine outside his window. Celebrían loved those blooms more than him, and he longed for her embrace now. For her warmth and her softness to surround him. If she was with him, these memories would have little hold over him. She wouldn't make him forget, but in her arms he would find that now was important again. And when he took her, when she called out his name with the scent of jasmine on the air, he would know everything was right – that everything was as it should be – as it was always meant to be._

 _He turned his head to stare out at the darkened room. While the dream hadn't aroused him, his thoughts of Celebrían did, and he imagined how it would be when she returned home. Their letters were wonderful, but nothing could compare to the perfection of having her in their bed._

 _Follow me, she had suggested when she left to visit Lothlórien, but he had known he wouldn't. Here, as at Lindon, he had allowed the burden of responsibility to press him down and to limit his choices. It needn't be so; hadn't Erestor also encouraged him to spend some time away? And yet it was in his nature, as if he needed Imladris more than it needed him, as if staying behind implied importance. Besides, she wasn't the first to use those words on him, and he still needed to disobey them… after all this time._

 _Casting his mind back to Oropher again, Elrond smiled slightly, and beneath the bedclothes his hand continued to move for a while before falling still._

* * *

Their relationship had been reckless and passionate for a while. And then, without a word being spoken, they had begun to drift. It didn't hurt. Elrond had responsibilities – he smiled to recall them now, and in his smile was a trace of self-mocking. As for Oropher, perhaps at the time he hadn't even noticed that they spent less time together. His charisma was not limited to the bedchamber, and he had many followers – those who would be friends as well as lovers, just for the opportunity to get close to him.

Sometimes, even for Elrond, it was difficult to see through the throng to Oropher himself, but whenever he did, it was only to find that his lover and friend hadn't changed at all.

Over time, they drifted further and further apart. They moved in different circles, and Elrond, after his duties and the requisite amount of weapons training, spent his time studying in the libraries of Lindon, while Oropher… well – to be honest he didn't really know what Oropher had been doing with his time. Oropher eventually took a wife, and Elrond attended the wedding, still even then mostly unaware of what it meant, as if time had dulled even that.

A son was born to them, Thranduil, and when he grew old enough, Elrond became his tutor as a favour. He taught Oropher's son to read and write, and together they taught him to hold a wooden sword, but still Elrond never noticed that he was beginning to spend more time with the child, Thranduil, than grew up while they grew further apart, until at last the day came that Oropher confronted him with his idea of leaving Lindon. Then, finally, Elrond noticed that their time was over…

"Come with me, half-elf," he urged, a fierce light of excitement in his eyes as he confided to his old friend the plans he had of establishing a Kingdom far away in the east. He didn't ask – he simply expected, and Elrond raised an eyebrow at his confidence.

"For what? Why should I come with you? I have a place here." Elrond felt the hurt of his careless words even as he saw the light in Oropher's eyes falter. "I'm sorry," he said at length, "I didn't mean –" He stopped. He had been about to say that he hadn't meant for Oropher to think he didn't want to go. But then, that was what it came down to, wasn't it? He didn't want to go.

"When did it end?" Oropher asked, looking away as if he too had only just realised it was over. "When did we stop?"

Elrond frowned. "I don't know. But we did." He tried to think of the moment or the week, or even the year when it had changed, and he couldn't recall it. "But you have a wife, and a son."

"I thought you'd always be there!" Oropher announced in such a woebegone fashion that Elrond laughed a little. It was so strange. After all of this time, he finally felt the difference in their ages. He felt older than Oropher for the first time.

"I won't even always be here," he said wistfully, glancing around him at the walls as though they might crumble into dust and leave him standing alone. He remembered when the palace was new, and it had aged while he did not. Everything aged, everything died.

"So you will follow me?" Oropher demanded with a quick grin, breaking into his thoughts, making Elrond laugh again as he shook his head.

"No, I won't. Go and live your life." It was an ending of sorts, but it wasn't the end. Elrond was well aware of that, and he endured Oropher's dramatics with more than a little amusement. For all of his charisma and influence, Oropher was insecure. It made for balance, and Elrond found himself genuinely sorry too that it was over for them. Things would have changed with this knowledge, perhaps it would have kept their interest in each other burning for another century or so.

So it was that Oropher, his wife and his son left Lindon, taking a good proportion of the population with them to found a Kingdom. Elrond truly believed he would see Oropher again, but by the time he crossed Middle Earth himself, it was to participate in a war that took all of his attention. When it was over, and he finally met with Oropher again, almost a thousand years had passed…

 _In the present, Elrond smiled as he thought on that first meeting. It was true, even then, that hardly anything could drag him away from his home – save the war that was coming of course. The War of the Last Alliance. The battle… Now Elrond frowned. But that had come much later. First, after the first defeat of Sauron in Eriador, there had been a period of something like peace…_

To be continued…

 **Author's Note:** Thank you for reading, I hope you are enjoying it. Please review and rate!


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

 **II 2000**

Turning his horse when the last of his party were across the river, Elrond cast a glance back across where the border guards of Lothlórien were stood waving them off. A thought crossed his mind that he hadn't meant to end up here… Strange. But then the Lady Galadriel had been so expectant that he hadn't even thought twice about it. Of course, had he been asked, he would say he was happy to visit Amon Lanc as well – perhaps. But he hadn't been asked. His prime purpose here was already fulfilled – the promise to visit Lórien as the Lord of Imladris. Yet somehow here he was, heading for the Kingdom on the eastern side of the river.

He knew whose Kingdom it was, and that is why, although he would have said he was happy to be visiting, he would also have avoided it as far as possible. Elrond frowned at the western bank suspiciously. Between the trees he caught a glimpse of a short and slight figure with flowing white robes and silver hair.

Celebrían no doubt… Elrond sighed. His visit had been pleasant, but the child had done nothing but attempt to annoy him throughout. Perhaps, by the time he saw Celebrían again, she would show a little more decorum. Elrond shook his head and bade his horse onward. It was a full ten minutes before he remembered that he hadn't intended to visit Amon Lanc.

When they arrived, the difference between the two realms and how they were run was apparent. While the border guards of Lothlórien had been effective and orderly, here, they were simply asked to wait in a clearing in the middle of the woods. One by one, servants came to accompany his aides and scribes away, until Elrond found himself quite alone. Another servant came for his horse, and he began to feel uncomfortable.

Without really thinking about it, he absently allowed his right hand to rest on the hilt of his sword. His eyes scanned the trees as he waited, but he was quite alone.

As he waited, he tried to bring Oropher to mind, and he began to feel nervous. Would he be welcome here after so long? Would Oropher even remember him? Elrond closed his eyes, and remembered those laughing blue eyes. Was Oropher as beautiful as his recollections, or was it partly fancy? His heart sped up in frightened anticipation, and then he heard it – a slight rustling behind him. He spun around to find Oropher sat on a hillock of grass watching him.

"Welcome, half elf," he said with a smile. Elrond staggered back a step or two.

"I d-didn't know you were there," Elrond blurted out, and then almost groaned at the stupidity of it. Oropher only laughed, but then jumped up and walked forward. Elrond stepped back again, but then realised the futility of the retreat and allowed Oropher to reach him. The King was smiling – he was more beautiful than Elrond remembered – and he felt himself smiling back as if he had been commanded to do it.

"Walk with me," Oropher suggested, and took his arm to lead him away, leaving the clearing empty at last.

They walked beneath the trees that surrounded the hill, a natural avenue of silver birch trees. As they walked in silence he looked up as if to escape from Oropher's knowing, amused gaze. Above him the silver birch raised their ivory arms and slender fingers towards the blue sky. A slight breeze made their leaves tremble and shimmer, some of them giving up their tenuous hold to flutter delicately to the carpeted ground beneath like golden confetti.

"It has taken a while, half elf, but you have followed me." Elrond stopped walking and shook his head.

"I certainly have not," he returned with a disbelieving grin. Quick as a flash, Oropher turned and pushed him, until he found himself pressed back against the trunk of a tree, fighting for his breath at the desire that rushed through him.

The electricity was back – Oropher – and for a moment Elrond couldn't do anything save look into his eyes and hope for more.

"A pity," Oropher deliberated, sliding a leg between Elrond's thighs deliberately to torment him – it worked. "Since I was going to reward you with a kiss."

Elrond licked his lips, and his gaze fell to Oropher's mouth, his lips generous and full, a perfect pink, curved slightly into a smile that was not arrogant, only playful. "You were?" he asked, as though he were pleading.

"Do you think that is something you deserve, half elf?" he asked in amusement, allowing Elrond to pull him close. Elrond buried his face in Oropher's hair, noting distantly how he smelled – like fresh air and woodland.

"Yes," he demanded urgently, his lips racing over the blond elf's neck and up towards the lobe of his ear.

"Ohh," Oropher moaned softly, and Elrond felt that sigh in his entire body. All he could think of was how Oropher would taste, how he would feel, how he would –

"Only I wonder why you waited three centuries to visit me." At the reproach in Oropher's tone, Elrond finally came back to his senses. He drew back as far as he was able and opened his eyes, almost sighing when he realised once more that his beautiful Oropher was stood before him. His pulse began to race again as his old lover smiled at him, and he could feel himself trembling, as though this was all brand new – and then he knew why he had stayed away.

"I was afraid," he admitted quietly, showing a vulnerability here that he hadn't shown to anyone in hundreds of years. Oropher tilted his head to one side inquisitively, and Elrond had to hold in a giggle at the unconsciously attractive display.

"Of what, half elf?"

"So many things," Elrond sighed. "That you might have forgotten about us. That you might have changed." He shook his head. "I do not know," he said awkwardly, beginning to feel miserable and looking away from Oropher to the forest around them.

The first velvet touch of lips on his made him melt in Oropher's embrace, and he parted his lips in invitation – an invitation Oropher took advantage of immediately. He feared he would fall, Oropher's tongue in his mouth, Oropher's hard body pressing him back against the tree, and Elrond tried to voice his desire as Oropher possessed his mouth.

When Oropher pulled back, Elrond gasped and kept his eyes closed, knowing that if he opened them he would be lost. "Well, half elf?" Oropher inquired. "Have I changed?" He ground his hips against Elrond again to draw an answer from him, and Elrond groaned suddenly as if it hurt him.

"Oh, please!"

Oropher laughed lightly, and Elrond opened his eyes then, knowing he had lost anyway.

"Yes… you sometimes like to beg if I remember correctly." Elrond looked down self-consciously, feeling out of his depth with his old lover. But then, he had always felt that way with Oropher – as if he was out of control – the only trouble was that he had spent so long surrounded by those who catered to his needs that he truly felt uncomfortable now.

He felt himself blushing, and the more he tried to control it, the worse it became, with Oropher's amused smirk on the edge of his vision, infuriating him even more.

"Has it been so long, half elf?" Oropher asked perceptively, as though he knew everything – just like he was before, so long ago. "You need me," he stated, and Elrond shook his head, trying to move away from the blond's embrace now.

"I need –" He had been about to say that he needed to be left alone, but then he made the mistake of looking into Oropher's endless blue eyes, and he sighed. It was autumn around them. The trees were golden like fields of corn after a summer full of sun. The year itself was ripe and ready to fall – and so was he. As he looked at Oropher, he felt the blessing of the coming Spring – it's warmth and promise flirted with him in Oropher's eyes – and he couldn't possibly finish the sentence.

"I need you," he said softly, knowing it was true because of the fear he felt. The fear of losing decorum and propriety. He did need Oropher, but what was in it for the King? He had a family now; land, subjects, responsibilities… Then he saw it, and he laughed a little, despite his fluttering stomach and racing heartbeat.

"You need me," he said in wonder, remembering the light-hearted and flirtatious nature of their relationship long before, in Lindon, where he had mostly given as good as he had got when it came to teasing. Was it still in him? Elrond wondered, and as he did so, he smiled with the echo of every one of their memories in his mind, and he saw Oropher eyes darken in response.

"I thought I would be waiting for you forever, _meleth nín_ ," Oropher admitted in a voice so low it was almost a longing sigh.

There was a good reason not to be seduced like this. Elrond knew it, but he couldn't stop himself from falling under Oropher's spell. They had been first, before anyone else. First for each other, and that became his reasoning as he gladly allowed Oropher to lead him on, knowing that there was nothing to really take.

Was it a week or a month before Elrond faced the truth? The last golden days of mid-autum poured over their lives like syrup – sweet and intense – loving and drinking in all they could of each other as though they had thirsted for centuries.

Avoiding the truth was easy, as long as Elrond made sure that all he knew in a day was Oropher's body, his perfect warm skin and endless blue eyes. But it was the eyes that would eventually bring the short affair to a halt.

Often, Elrond went walking alone to reflect, aware that those who had travelled here with him were restless to be moving on and going home. They had been away for several months in total. When someone joined him, at first Elrond thought it was one of his own, until he looked up, and found the Prince regarding him thoughtfully.

It was the eyes that ended everything, because although Thranduil looked almost exactly like Oropher, there was one important difference – his eyes were a piercing green, like his mother's.

It had to stop, this affair between Oropher and himself. Authiriel had sailed west after the war in Eriador – Oropher himself had explained the reasons why. How it was that she had lost her father and brothers in the war, and how impossible it had been for Oropher to console her. Elrond had felt a stab of guilt then, because he hadn't known how alone his old lover had been, and he could at least have been a friend, and made the letting go easier.

As it was, now, instead of offering comfort, he was helping Oropher to betray her memory and the reality of their eventual reunion in Valinor. It was inexcusable, irresponsible and rogueish – all qualities he would swear he didn't possess, and yet Oropher encouraged them in him. He would talk to Oropher soon, and end this dalliance once more.

"I need your advice, Lord Elrond," Thranduil confided suddenly, breaking into Elrond's thoughts, his eyes narrowing as he worried his bottom lip. He was centuries old, but in that moment he seemed so very young to Elrond, and he saw not quite the adult, but the child he had taught centuries earlier.

Smiling, Elrond laid a hand on Thranduil's arm as they walked, thankful that his affair with Oropher had been kept secret from the people of Amon Lanc, and from the Prince.

"Anything I can do for you, _pen neth_ ," Elrond said warmly. "You know I will do it."

The Prince stopped walking, and sighed, looking at the trees and smiling a little. "I have been courting the maid Nimbrethil for a while now," he began, and Elrond's eyes widened. Evidently, he and Oropher weren't the only ones to keep secrets. "I need your advice because I desire very much to marry her." Thranduil looked troubled. "I am uncertain, though. How does one go about these things?"

Elrond took an involuntary step back when Thranduil suddenly turned on his heel to regard him. His gaze was so forthright and direct that Elrond felt a little overwhelmed by it. He hadn't spent much time with Thranduil during his visit, and now at last he appreciated how much the youth he once knew had changed. His mouth went dry and he swallowed before speaking.

"Could you not approach your father with this?" he asked faintly, managing to wonder why Thranduil hadn't asked Oropher. Once again, Thranduil turned away, and Elrond felt grateful for the loss of the eye contact, though he couldn't have said why.

"I do not want to draw his attention to our happiness yet, because I fear to unsettle him. When my mother departed these lands he was…" Thranduil's voice trailed off, as though he was thinking, and he closed his eyes. "I do not want to cause him to remember what he has lost, however temporary that loss might be."

Immediately, Elrond felt guilty again, and in his mind the decision to let Oropher go gained strength. But through his own preoccupation, he caught the inference in Thranduil's words, and he smiled.

"She will accept you then? Are you sure of this?" He felt happy when Thranduil nodded slowly, despite his companion's obvious concern for his father. "Then you should approach your father. I am sure he will only be happy for your choice."

If there was one thing he knew, it was that this news would lighten Oropher's heart. They had not just become close again physically. Once more they had rekindled their friendship, and Elrond knew how much Oropher feared his sadness at the departure of Authiriel would discourage Thranduil from seeking love for himself.

"You are certain?" Thranduil asked, once again looking straight at him, and Elrond met that gaze with a confident smile.

"I know it," Elrond replied, and Thranduil smiled.

"You are a great friend to us all, _peredhel_ ," he said, and Elrond's smile faltered at hearing the pet name fall from the lips of his lover's son. "Since you came here he has shed some of the sadness, I think," Thranduil continued, a little secret quirk to his lips that made Elrond wonder just how much he knew. To deflect the suspicion, Elrond changed the subject.

"I wish you and Nimbrethil all the happiness you deserve," he said lightly, and was slightly discomfited when Thranduil laughed, seemingly at him.

"Happiness? Oh, yes… we will be 'happy.'" Thranduil nodded, and then grinned. "I would do anything for her," he vowed. "Anything she asks…"

It sounded somewhat as though Thranduil meant something else, but what Elrond couldn't be quite certain. It was obvious he was happy though, and so he urged the Prince to speak to his father as well as her parents, sure that this match would only cause happiness to all those involved.

Elrond left Amon Lanc later that very week, after he had witnessed Oropher's joy at the upcoming union. Although he attempted to end their relationship, the King extracted a promise from him to return for the wedding some months later, and Elrond consented because he did not want to slight Thranduil. He knew that Oropher intended to continue with him, however, and he had no idea how to stop it.

* * *

 **III 140**

In the morning, Elrond felt as though he hadn't rested, his dreams of Oropher and Thranduil had exhausted him, and he went to breakfast with little appetite.

Indeed, he found little desire for food, and instead spent much of the meal watching Legolas at the other end of the table, speaking politely with Glorfindel – about Imladris' defences if the animated replies the Captain graced him with were any indication.

After an amount of time, Legolas glanced his way, smiling at something Glorfindel had said, and Elrond couldn't help feeling the young Prince was laughing at him. He looked so much like his grandfather when he smiled, mischievous and charismatic, but there was something of Thranduil in him too, and his smile seemed to say that he knew what Elrond was thinking.

If it had been suggested, he would have strongly denied that he was fleeing from the table – after all, he wasn't hungry. Yet that is what it felt like, and he sensed Legolas' attention on him as he walked away, his stomach clenching in nervousness for what he had to do.

There was no choice.

To be continued…

 **Author's Note:** Thank you for reading, I hope you are enjoying it. Please don't forget to leave a few words before you go! :)


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